


The Avengers Talent Show

by pherryt



Series: Clint Barton Bingo [7]
Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bottom!Bucky, Dancing, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, M/M, Panties, Pining, Singing, Smut, deaf!Clint, implied future switching, talent show, top!Clint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 15:46:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19815421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pherryt/pseuds/pherryt
Summary: Bucky can't believe the Avengers are putting on a talent show, but if you ask him, Clint is the main attraction...





	The Avengers Talent Show

**Author's Note:**

> This is three things at once:
> 
> Firstly, it is inspired by [this video of Jeremy Renner singing ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jL2DcWB994s)\- which i was already obsessed with when Snarkysnartes tagged me on tumblr to 'hint' that it would be a great prompt.  
> Secondly, it fits the dancing square on my Clint Barton bingo and I'm gonna use it for the free square on my Bucky Barnes Bingo  
> Third and last - one of the recent [Mandatory Fun day prompts ](https://mandatoryfunday.tumblr.com/) was one of our boys in lingerie... i just can't figure out if i'm late to it or not, because there's no dates on anything... but this is my first fill for that (though I'm working on really late art for a previous one too)
> 
> Also, this is not beta'd. i wrote it in one day because it was supposed to be this short thing and then it just kept going and i kept thinking 'It's almost done, just a little bit more' and its so hard to STOP when you think you're right on the cusp of finishing, right?

When Bucky joined the Avengers, _this_ hadn’t been what he’d had in mind.

“Excuse me?” he gritted out.

“Charity function,” Tony smirked. _“_ And it’s mandatory, so don’t even think about skipping out.”

Bucky stared down at the folder Pepper Potts had slid across the table to him. Each of the others were facing their own folders with various displays of resignation or… even eagerness?

What the hell? Why was Barton _grinning?_

“This is ridiculous,” Banner muttered. “What do you want me to do, go on stage and get angry?”

“Everyone will play a part – some of you on stage, and some of you behind the scenes,” Potts glared around the room. “Think of the children this will benefit.”

“But a _talent show?_ ” Steve protested. Finally, a voice of reason. Steve tossed the folder back to the table. “I’ll gladly help with charities, but this is a… a PR stunt and I’m _not_ a dancing monkey.”

Bucky snorted. “Sure about that, pal?”

“Fuck you, Buck,” Steve muttered.

“Language!” half the team shouted back.

Potts winced, but kept going, as undeterred as only someone who’d been working with Tony Stark for so long could be.

“We’ve already put your strengths and weaknesses into consideration and have devised an effective use for your various talents. If you’ll look at the itinerary – “

Bucky watched Clint’s face fall as he scanned the paper, and he opened his folder. The entire thing had a whole circus feel to it. Steve being the strong man. Hulk would have been better, of course, but that was too dangerous and Thor was currently out of town. Widow was their acrobat, Wilson was doing aerial stunts, Stark as the ringmaster and Barton doing trickshots.

Bucky was… he flipped the page over and back again with a frown. Free and clear? What? He was both relieved to _not_ have to participate and hurt that he hadn’t been included.

But then, why would he be? He was the newest and his issues largely unknown outside of the obvious, and so was currently on a probationary status with the team. He still wasn’t sure most of them trusted him, much less wanted him there.

And what was Barton’s problem anyway? The man was brilliant, and his assigned task was right up his alley.

“One question,” Barton said, raising his hand. Potts paused, steeled herself and faced him. “If this is a talent show, and a PR stunt to boot, shouldn’t _we_ get the chance to pick what we want to do? Isn’t a talent show really an excuse to show off the talents people might not realize we even have? I mean, I’m Hawkeye. People _already_ know I’m the best marksman out there. Can’t I do something else?”

Potts shook her head. “Stick to the plan, gentleman, Nat.” She inclined her head to Widow before glaring at Stark who threw up his hands defensively.

“Hey, far be it from me to ruin your itinerary, Pep.”

Everyone put their folders down and stared at Stark. He looked back at them all innocently. Even as new as he was, Bucky didn’t believe it for a second.

“What?”

“Behave, Tony,” Potts said with a steel that sent a chill down even Bucky’s spine. “Anyone has questions, you know how to reach me.”

Her heels clicked loudly as she stepped out of the room. As soon as the doors slid shut behind her, the room descended into pandemonium, Barton and Natalia’s heads together as they conspired about _something_ \- and no, Bucky _wasn’t_ trying to overhear that conversation.

Nat would kill him in his sleep if she thought he was spying on them.

Wilson seemed pleased with his assignment, and Stark would definitely be in his element. Steve was glaring though and Banner and Bucky were sharing a glance of solidarity for having managed to get out of the talent show unscathed.

But they were here for a reason, Ms. Potts insisting everyone would have a part, so if they weren’t going to be on stage, then what _would_ they be doing?

Bucky looked down at his folder again and read everything through carefully.

His blood ran cold. Mingling. Bucky and Banner would be out in the crowd _mingling_. The very last thing he wanted to do, that he knew _Banner_ wanted to do, was to deal with people. Why would she _do_ that to them?

He’d rather be on stage with Barton, having a shooting competition.

Judging from Ms. Potts expression, however, getting her to change her mind would _not_ be easy.

He stood up, ignoring the sudden silence and questioning looks as he snapped up the folder and hastily left the room, hoping he could catch up with Ms. Potts to broach the very subject.

Turned out, he was right.

Ms. Potts _was_ stubborn. She’d have to be, to deal with Stark on a daily basis. He had to admire that about her, but now, here he was, dressed in a white tux and ‘mingling’ with the audience for the talent show.

She had stuck to her guns through every single Avenger that approached her with alternative ideas. And the reason she had given for keeping Banner and Bucky as very visible and accessible parts of the event was more PR.

“The public needs to see that you are more than your anger issues, Dr. Banner, and that you are no longer the cold-blooded killer HYDRA made you into, Sergeant Barnes,” she said. “Trust me, this will be good for the both of you.”

Bucky tugged at the bowtie and swallowed. This floor of the Tower had been repurposed for the event, a large stage at one end, tables around the edges and even a dance floor.

Why the hell did they need a dance floor – especially one that large – when the entertainment was going to be up on the stage? What else did Ms. Potts have in mind?

Though, come to think of it, he wouldn’t mind a little dancing. _Real_ dancing, anyways.

The room filled much too quickly for Bucky’s comfort, with way more people than he was okay with. Plastering a smile onto his face, Bucky called up every bit of pre-war charm he could remember and tried to keep one eye on Banner and one eye on the stage.

Every second was torture and he couldn’t wait for the lights to dim and the guests to settle down so he could stop mingling and watch the show. He glanced around, ducking out of the way of a waiter and hiding from one of the worst windbags he’d ever seen, trying to stick to harmless little old ladies.

“Heads up,” Banner said out of the corner of his mouth as their orbits briefly collided, “I see what you’re doing and no, they’re just as bad. Trust me.”

It was with a thankful heart and a deeply relieved sigh that Bucky found himself a place to stand when the room went dark and the stage lit up. Instincts kept pulling him away from the show and checking over the crowd, but the hypervigilance was much preferable to the mingling.

Stark was, as usual, as over the top as ever. The program was exactly as Potts had designed, but there was a gleam in Stark’s eyes that had Bucky narrowing his.

Wilson went first, this particular floor of Stark’s tower having a high enough ceiling for the aerial acrobatics he got up to. It was pretty fancy flying, even if Bucky would _never_ admit that to Wilson in a million years.

Steve went next, demonstrating his strength in a way that Bucky knew didn’t even tap a tenth of his potential but suitably impressed the guests. Stark’s eyes still gleamed and only Nat and Barton were left. The only deviation that Bucky could see so far was the order, and from the way Ms. Potts was glaring at Stark, he was sure she’d be chewing the team out for it later.

But – and call him paranoid – Bucky didn’t think that’s all she was going to chew them out for. Something was going to happen that she hadn’t planned for, he was sure of it.

Nat came out and danced. Arguably, it could be considered the acrobatics that Ms. Potts had assigned for her, Natalia moving with the same lithe grace and flexibility she had while fighting, as always a mesmerizing sight.

Somehow, despite Ms. Potts frown, Bucky was sure whatever trick Stark had in store, _this_ wasn’t it either.

Nat finished and the room went dark; completely dark except for the little candles at each table that did nothing for the room in general. Without Bucky’s enhanced sight, he’d have seen nothing at those tables, despite the candles.

There was the sound of something shifting on the stage and he frowned, unable to see _anything_ up there, and if _he_ couldn’t, then how were they operating in the dark? It went on for about 5 minutes before the sound petered out, to be replaced by a light chime before shifting into a low soft beat, starting low enough to be felt in his bones and ramping up, instrumentals adding in as it went.

Bucky didn’t recognize the song, but he didn’t really expect to.

A blue light came up on the stage, showing the silhouette of a man. Clint should have been going next, doing archery and showing off his impossible shots but this… this wasn’t that. Bucky straightened up, pushing away from the wall and edging around the tables to get closer to the stage.

Wind pushed over the stage, the silhouette changed, something flapping behind the figure and then a familiar voice began to sing.

Bucky’s eyes went wide _. Holy hell, was that - ?_

The blue light on the stage brightened, shifting into different colors and clearly illuminating Barton’s face. Bucky’s breath stopped at how _good_ Barton looked – not that he didn’t usually look good, but this was up a notch further than Bucky could have ever dreamed – and how good he _sounded._

_Fuck, Barton can **sing**? _

The man in question moved about the stage in deliberate and fluid movements, his head nodding to his music, pausing to close his eyes and sing right into the microphone at key points.

Without realizing it, unable to tear his eyes off Barton’s figure, Bucky inched closer and closer to the stage. Barton continued to move and dance back and forth across the stage, the long black coat flaring out behind him as he did. With his back to Bucky, Barton stilled, planted his feet and turned just his head, looking back over his shoulders with a look in his eyes that made Bucky squeak.

Thank god nobody could possibly hear him over the music.

This was really not helping his crush on Barton at all. Bucky already admired the man, his skill, the things he’d gone through, the level of optimism he still seemed to hold. Bucky wished he could be like Barton. Barton seemed to co-exist with people with an ease Bucky had long since lost and he also hadn’t let the bad things define him.

That he was good looking was just icing on the cake, even in his usual around the tower clothes - those threadbare sweatpants that were a little too long for him, the t-shirts that were a little too tight.

This… this was _killing_ Bucky, seeing Barton dressed up so nicely, watching him move so fluidly, confidently. Those hot gazes he was shooting out into the audience seemed to connect right with Bucky, but that couldn’t be possible. There was no way Barton could even _see_ Bucky in this lighting.

Right?

Those looks weren’t meant for Bucky, they were all a part of Barton’s act. But oh, for the love of God or whatever was up there anymore, Bucky sure wished they were, spent the rest of the song _imagining_ they were. His breath caught on another look, at the sight of Barton’s cocky walk and the bounce in his stride, Bucky’s breath speeding up on the slide of Barton’s liquid voice melting right through him.

Heat flooded Bucky, and his feet twitched to go closer, but he hell if he was going to crawl up on the stage like a star struck groupie. He _was,_ however, going to need to escape to the nearest bathroom after this and compose himself.

But there was no way in _hell_ if Bucky was going to miss a minute of this.

_Holy fuck… I hope JARVIS is recording this. I’m going to need to rewatch this a time or six_ …

Barton finished with a flourish, at the edge of the stage closest to Bucky, sending a wink out into the audience (to Bucky!) as the last note faded away and the stage went black.

Bucky kicked into gear, using his superior eyesight to navigate away from the stage before Barton could catch him there. Any sound he made was covered by the enthusiastic clapping, but he’d only made it halfway across the room by the time the lights came back up for the whole room, canned music getting piped in, but Bucky could still feel the beat of Barton’s song thrumming through him.

And there was Nat in front of him, a smile on her face. He almost skidded to a stop, trying to appear like everything was normal.

“Going somewhere?” she asked softly.

Bucky shrugged, hoping she didn’t look down. “No.”

Nat grinned. “Good. They’re opening the dance floor, and I want to dance.”

She took his hand and he knew he couldn’t say no. He followed her helplessly, glancing around to see where the rest of the Avengers were – and more importantly, where _Barton_ was. Nat noticed, of course as she led them to the dance foor.

“Looking for someone?” she asked.

“No?” he said, then cleared his throat. “No, not at all.” He flashed her a grin and she rolled her eyes.

“The old Bucky charm isn’t going to work on me,” she said. “Besides, I know someone you’d rather work it on.”

He blinked at her owlishly. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

She smirked, swinging him about effortlessly, the dance floor filling up with other dancers of various skills. “Of course, you don’t.” She leaned in close, lips brushing against his ear, “He loves to dance too and never gets the chance, and I would not have him thrown to the wolves. Those little old ladies would eat him alive.”

Bucky found himself still when she leaned back, staring at her like a deer in headlights, when a voice cut in, “Stop scaring him, Nat.”

His head whipping around, Bucky’s eyes landed on Barton, looking even better up close than he had on stage and – was that makeup around his eyes? He swallowed and hoped it wasn’t audible.

Nat let go and Barton stepped forward. Right, he’d want to dance with Nat, of course, they were partners and long time friends and –

Barton held his hand out towards Bucky and raised an eyebrow.

“What – me?”

“Yes, unless you don’t want to?” Barton stepped closer and his hand closed over Bucky’s gently. He was close enough that Bucky could _feel_ the heat radiating off of him. His lips parted and he licked them as he stared up – up?! – into Barton’s blue eyes and nodded, his hand closing around Barton’s, the other coming up to catch at Barton’s waist.

Barton’s eyes lit up, the corners crinkling up and it took Bucky’s breath away.

Their feet began to move, Bucky following Clint’s lead, not even hearing the music as they spun about the dance floor. One song blurred into the next, each dance ending with them a little closer than the last, Bucky’s eyes only on Barton the whole time.

“You’re a wonderful dancer, Barnes,” Barton said, grinning. “We _gotta_ do this more often.”

“Bucky,” Bucky breathed as Barton’s leg brushed against his. “C-c-call me Bucky.”

“Yeah?” Barton said. “Then you better start calling me Clint.”

“I can do that,” Bucky said, swallowing. “I uh, didn’t know you could sing. Or, or dance, for that matter.”

“Hmmm… I’m a man of hidden talents,” Clint said, twirling Bucky around and pressing closer, but not quite close enough (and at the same time, a little _too much_. If they kept decreasing the distance at this rate, Clint would _know_ exactly how turned on Bucky was by his performance). “How mad do you think Pep’s gonna be?”

Bucky laughed, taking the out, as brief as it might turn out to be. “With the response you got, no way in hell is she gonna be mad.”

“You sayin’ I’m good?”

“Better than good,” Bucky smirked back.

“That why you couldn’t take your eyes off me the whole time?”

“How the _hell – ?”_ Bucky blurted.

“I’m Hawkeye, remember?” Clint winked. He _winked._ And then he leaned in, and it was _Clint’s_ lips brushing Bucky’s ear this time, causing a shudder to run through his body. “Don’t be embarrassed, that’s how I feel every time I’m around you.”

“So,” Bucky squeaked, struggling to breath normally. How had one man – _one man! –_ managed to shatter his calm like this? “Uh, does that mean…” _Fuck, fuck, fuck! Where was that old Barnes charm?_ “Do you wanna, maybe, uh, get outta here?” Too forward? That’s gotta be too forward, right? But then Bucky remembered that look Clint had flashed him from stage - the one that had flicked down and then back up, taking him all in, looks that he’d apparently _been_ aiming right at Bucky the whole time – and he bit his lip, waiting for Clint’s answer.

Clint’s answer was to dip Bucky, Bucky’s stomach falling and swirling in anticipation as he was swooped backwards over Clint’s hand and Clint followed him down till they were a frozen tableau, Clint’s lips hovering mere millimeters from Bucky’s. Bucky stared up at him with wide eyes, his fingers tightened their grips on Clint, his lips parted and their breath mingling.

This… _this_ was the type of mingling he was more than happy to do. In fact, he could do with a little bit _more_ mingling.

“You gonna kiss me or – mmmmph…” Bucky’s words were swallowed by Clint’s enthusiastic response, by the give and take of their mouths as their tongues tangled and plundered, the swoop and flutter Bucky felt at that first touch of their lips, of their tongues. His eyes flickered shut and he pushed up, stood them back on their feet and pressed into Clint, one hand sliding up to wrap around Clint’s neck the other moving from his waist to his back, pulling Clint in flush.

Clint groaned, his hands migrating into Bucky’s hair, pulling it loose from the pony tail and the pins he’d painstakingly applied to keep it tidy and out of the way.

With a series of softer kisses, each one trying to be deeper than it was, Clint pulled away and rested his forehead against Bucky’s and the two of them stared, grinning and breathing hard. Clint’s fingers still carded through Bucky’s hair and that feeling alone had his knees weak.

“So, I think you’re right. We should _definitely_ get outta here,” Clint said.

“Yeah,” Bucky said breathlessly.

“Got any destination in mind?”

“My place, your place, fuck, I don’t care,” Bucky groaned, pushing up to kiss Clint again. Their bodies were pressed together tight and it was a glorious feeling. Clint groaned, sucking on Bucky’s lip when he ground their hips together.

“We don’t care either – as long as it’s anywhere else but _here_ ,” Steve said, one hand on both their shoulders and pulling them apart. Bucky stared at Clint dazedly before blinking and looking at Steve, then down at Steve’s hand and around them.

People were staring and Bucky blushed.

“Aye aye, Cap,” Clint said, one hand dropping away to grab Bucky’s, the other flipping Steve a salute. He tugged at Bucky, who followed his lead blindly. Walking backwards and showing absolutely _no shame_ , Clint waved to the crowd and blew them kisses.

As soon as they were out of the event room, Bucky had Clint pressed against the wall and was mouthing at his neck. “Those kisses are mine, Clint,” he mumbled into the bit of Clint’s skin that he could reach at the front of his throat. “No giving them away.”

Clint’s throat arched, his head snapping against the wall. “All yours,” he said with a gasp. Hands grabbed Bucky’s ass and yanked him forward. “And you’re all mine, right?”

They both let out a long, low moan and Bucky grinned. “Right, doll.”

“Good,” Clint said, pushing Bucky off. There was a wild glint in his eye that Bucky was sure was mirrored in his own. “Upstairs, now.” He looked Bucky up and down and Bucky flushed even hotter under his gaze. “Because you look damn good in that tux and I can’t _wait_ to rip it off ya.”

“Wait till you see what’s under it, doll,” Bucky teased, taking a step backwards, then another, watching Clint’s eyes glaze over and his mouth drop open. Bucky turned on his heel and strode to the elevator, the doors opening without a single word, Clint catching up to him as soon as he stepped inside and bearing Bucky back against the rear wall.

Stark being Stark, the walls were glass and Bucky found himself face first on the glass with Clint crowding behind him, nipping at his neck and Clint’s fingers trailing up his arms, Clint’s front pressed along the hard line of Bucky’s back.

“Fuck,” Bucky breathed. Was this really happening right now?

“Mmmhmm,” Clint hummed, kissing his way up Bucky’s neck, to his jaw and sucking. “I miss the scruff.”

“I’ll grow it back,” Bucky promised. Why wasn’t the elevator moving? He whimpered as Clint’s hands wandered down his front, squeezing between him and the glass. Even through layers of cloth, Clint’s hands burned.

“So what have you got hiding under here?” Clint asked.

Bucky groaned, “Ain’t showin’ you here, doll.” He looked out past the glass just as the elevator began to rise. Clint spun him in place, his hands going down to cup Bucky’s ass as he placed a tender kiss on his lips.

“Your destination, sirs,” JARVIS announced, the doors standing open. Bucky blinked. He hadn’t even noticed the floors passing, so caught up in Clint as he was.

“Still wanna do this?” Clint asked, giving Bucky some space. Bucky followed, caught in Clint’s pull.

“Whaddya think, doll?” Bucky asked, crowding Clint.

“I think you’ll be the death of me,” Clint said, grinning. “But what a way to go.”

Clint caught Bucky’s tux in both hands and yanked him off the elevator, pulling Bucky into his rooms. Bucky smirked at Clint’s eagerness as they stumbled through, past the couch, nearly tripping over a discarded pizza box, then a quiver, a radio, discarded tools, ratty sneakers -

“Your place is a disaster,” Bucky said when they slammed up against the wall. He latched on to Clint’s neck, pushing his hands under the long coat and pulling his shirt out of his pants.

Clint gasped when Bucky’s fingers worked their way under the shirt, skittering over his abs and Bucky smirked. “W-well,” Clint panted, hips working upwards against Bucky’s. Bucky’s eyes floated closed on the euphoria flooding him and he bit Clint’s neck. “I’m… I’m kind of a disaster if… if you haven’t not- _iced!”_

Bucky was proud of the sounds Clint made under his mouth. God, he wanted to make Clint _sing._ “Nah, doll, you’re gorgeous,” Bucky whispered into Clint’s ear, careful not to disturb his aids. Tony made them small enough that most people forgot they were there, but Bucky always remembered.

Clint spun them with a low growl, slamming Bucky into wall, pinning Bucky’s hands above his head. “So are you, babe,” Clint said seconds before he kissed Bucky hard and deep. Oh fuck, there went Bucky’s knees again, weak under Clint’s onslaught. Clint rolled his hips and Bucky whimpered into the kiss.

Slowly, Clint let go of Bucky’s hands and trailed them down. Without breaking their kiss, Clint got his hands under Bucky’s ass, cupping them through the pants and urging him up. Oh fuck, he didn’t mean for Bucky to –

Bucky surged forward, snaking both arms around Clint’s neck and shoulders and hopped up, Clint taking Bucky’s weight when Bucky wrapped his legs around Clint. He staggered for a second, but in a feat of strength that most people might not expect (unless they, like Bucky, had stared long and often at Clint’s incredible biceps and broad shoulders. Archery was no joke) he backed away from the wall, carrying Bucky through the doorway of his bedroom.

“Fuck, I love how strong you are,” Bucky moaned as Clint laid him out on the bed, crawling up to hover over Bucky. Bucky pushed up on his elbows, chasing Clint’s lips with his. Clint obliged, pressing their mouths together in light, open mouthed kisses, sucking on Bucky’s lower lip, a hint of teeth before Clint’s tongue soothed over the bite, then into Bucky’s mouth.

Caught up on the kiss, Bucky almost missed Clint’s hands moving over him, undoing his bow tie and sliding it off, both hands pushing at the shoulders of his jacket and down over his arms. Gasping, Bucky shifted to help get the jacket and when it was gone, Clint shoved him to his back, nudging his head up.

“You’re so strong too, Buck,” he whispered into the skin of Bucky’s neck, fingers working at his buttons and his lips trailing slowly after his fingers. He tugged Bucky’s shirt out of the pants and spread it wide, leaving Bucky’s chest exposed. Clint moved, fingers dancing over Bucky’s abs as he licked his way back up, latching on to a nipple and giving it a good suck.

Bucky arched up off the bed with a small cry. “Clint!”

Clint’s eyes caught his and Bucky growled, his hands grabbing Clint’s shoulders and yanking up. “Too many clothes,” Bucky said.

Clint nodded. “Yeah,” he panted. “Yeah, you’re so right, Buck.” Even as he spoked, he pulled his jacket off, tossing it off the side of the bed, in time for Bucky to yank his v-neck shirt right over his head, leaving them both bare chested. Bucky traced over his chest, over the scars, the strong muscles, the flush spreading south and the fine blonde hair just above the waistband of his pants.

Bucky stared, breathing hard, fingers trembling as he reached for Clint. Clint caught them, kissed them, laying Bucky back down and settling over him, one leg slipping between Bucky’s and rocking down.

“It’s okay, I’ve got ya. What do you want?” Clint asked him, his voice thick with need and still so tender Bucky could cry. It’d never been like this with anyone else.

“You,” Bucky said softly. “Please?”

Clint brushed Bucky’s hair away from his face with a gentle touch. “Of course,” Clint said. Bucky closed his eyes and swallowed, gasping when Clint started working his way back down his chest, his stomach muscles jumping when Clint trailed kisses down his too hot flesh. Clint was so close, so close –

A hand grazed over his erection, squeezing him lightly through his pants and Bucky squirmed up into the touch. “Fuck! Yes, Clint, _please_ …”

Clint’s fingers fumbled over Bucky’s pants but he got them open and began to pull, Bucky raising his hips desperately and pushing at his pants down.

“Oh wow, Bucky,” Clint breathed out. “Pretty as a picture, all wrapped up for me in a bow – no _two_ bows,” Clint said. “I just got rid of the first one. Think I’ll keep this one.” Bucky stared down at him, feeling hot and achy and slightly embarrassed. He suddenly wanted to hide the skimpy white lace not quite covering his cock, despite Clint’s praise.

His fingers twitched to do just that but then Clint was licking the head of his dick and Bucky’s hips jerked up, towards the wet heat of Clint’s mouth. He let out a whine as Clint’s fingers grasped Bucky’s cock through the lace, Clint’s lips lightly sucking on the tip of it.

“So goddamn pretty, Bucky,” Clint breathed, mouthing at Bucky’s cock. The tantalizing heat of the soft lips as Clint lavished attention on Bucky’s cock was maddening. The lace shifted as his cock twitched and leaked under Clint’s ministrations. “Bet you’d look good in purple, my purple. Whaddya say?”

The idea exploded through Bucky’s head, and he grew harder at the idea of wearing Clint’s colors just for him.

“Oh, you _do_ like that, don’t you?”

Strong hands spread his legs open, Clint licking past Bucky’s still trapped cock and further down. He tongued at Bucky’s hole without even moving the panties and Bucky groaned and writhed.

“Please, Clint…” he begged. “Jesus fuck, doll, I need you.”

Clint hummed, sucking and licking, soaking the panties and thrusting his tongue into Bucky’s hole. Bucky reached over his head and clutched at his own hair, pulling at the long strands, arching off the bed, into Clint’s touch, his tongue, babbling he wasn’t even sure what.

With a chuckle, Clint moved to kiss the inside of Bucky’s thigh, Bucky’s chest heaving with his need. “Please,” he whispered. “PLe -aaaAH!”

Bucky’s hips shot up when Clint slipped a finger under the panties and inside Bucky, his mouth going back up to cover Bucky’s cock through the lace. He plunged his finger in deep, wet with lube Bucky never noticed him getting, so lost in the sensations Clint was driving through him.

“Yes, yes, yes,” he moaned. “More, need… need more…”

Clint reared back slightly, yanked the panties down enough to free Bucky’s cock, slid another finger inside him and then leaned forward to swallow Bucky down.

Bucky’s hands flew to Clint’s head, gasping and mewling as Clint’s mouth and fingers worked in tandem, bringing Bucky closer to pleasure, to ecstasy.

“More,” Bucky gasped. “More, doll.”

Clint popped off his cock, his fingers flexing and shifting and – “Holy fuck!” Bucky shouted.

“More what, Babe?” Clint asked, smirking.

Bucky pulled himself together enough to raise himself up and glare down at Clint. “Get inside me, Clint, or I swear to God I’m gonna – “

A finger grazed his prostate and Bucky collapsed, gasping. It did it again, as second time, a third, before Bucky was suddenly empty and whining.

“Relax,” Clint said, running a soothing hand over Bucky’s spread thighs. He heard a zip, a rustle, and he looked to watch Clint step out of his pants and his boxers, his erection hard, his dick soaked at the tip. He was reaching for a condom when Bucky shook his head.

“Don’t need it, if you don’t want it,” Bucky said breathlessly. “Wanna feel you, want you to fill me up and uh,” he blushed. “I’m a super soldier. Can’t give or get STD’s, so… please?”

Clint closed his eyes and his hand darted down to his cock, squeezing the base with a groan. “Fuck, yeah,” Clint said, his eyes opening and looking at Bucky with predatory hunger. “Wanna mark you up from the inside, make you mine.”

He coated his cock with lube, sliding his hand up and down several times before settling back between Bucky’s legs.

“Yours,” Bucky whispered. “God, yes, doll. Make me yours, Clint.” Bucky reached down, pulling his legs wide, watching Clint shuffle forward, watching Clint – _feeling_ Clint – slide his cock along Bucky’s skin, over his hole, the tip catching slightly.

They both moaned in unison and then Clint was pressing the tip in slowly. He let go of his cock, his hands covering Bucky’s on his thighs, spreading them further as he rocked in, bit by agonizing bit.

When they were finally flush, when Clint was sheathed inside Bucky, he ducked down to kiss Bucky gently, hands coming up to cradle his face. Bucky shifted up trying to take Clint deeper and whined when Clint didn’t move. He let go of his legs, wrapping them about Clint’s waist and reached, grabbed two handfuls of flesh and yanked.

Clint yelped, crashing down into Bucky’s chest, knocking their faces together. He grinned, “Little impatient, are we?”

“Just fuckin’ move already,” Bucky gritted out. His fingers flexed on the soft flesh of Clint’s ass, urging Clint on and Clint obliged, sliding out and pushing back in so slowly Bucky thought he was being driven crazy. Clint shifted and he cried out, clenching around Clint’s cock.

Swearing, Clint picked up speed, hands tangled in Bucky’s hair, kissing frantically, their hot flesh moving slickly against each other with each thrust.

Bucky’s panties were tight on his skin where they were simply pushed aside, his dick throbbed, rubbing against Clint’s stomach. Their kisses devolved into uncoordinated brushes of lips, breathing each other’s air. Clint’s cock dragged through Bucky deliciously, hitting his sweet spot, lighting him up. Pleasure flowed through him, tingled down his spine, hips rushing to meet Clint trying to draw him ever deeper.

Clint shifted and Bucky cried out, clutching at Clint, his back bowing as he arched up, coming between them. Clint groaned and he jerked, rutting into Bucky hard, smothering his own shout in Bucky’s shoulder, flooding Bucky’s ass when he came.

Bucky groaned and came again, Clint shuddering against him.

“Holy fuck,” Clint breathed, hips finally slowing, stopping. “Oh my god.” Clint twitched inside Bucky, slowly sliding out and Bucky whimpered, still hard.

Clint stared down at Bucky in awe. “You’re… wow…” he looked up at Bucky. “I’m gonna make you _sing_.”

He slipped back down and took Bucky back into his mouth and sucked, bobbing up and down Bucky’s length. Bucky gasped and whined as Clint gave him the best blowjob he could ever remember. He watched his cock disappearing into Clint’s mouth, watched how much Clint _enjoyed it_ , felt it when Clint _hummed_ around his fucking cock like it was the best thing he’d ever had in his mouth.

Clint was on his knees worshiping Bucky’s body and Bucky couldn’t hold back his second orgasm when Clint’s fingers shoved aside his panties once more, thrusting through mixed come and lube, filling Bucky with three fingers. He lurched up, curled around Clint and shuddered, his shout dying off into a long, drawn out moan before he sagged back onto the sheets breathing hard.

Clint suckled at his cock until Bucky whined and nudged him with his knee, then crawled up the length of Bucky’s body and draped himself on top of him, never minding how sticky and sweaty Bucky was.

He drifted, then, coming to a little while later with his head on Clint’s chest, the rest of his clothes gone, Clint’s fingers threading through his hair, their legs tangled together and his metal arm slung over Clint’s hips. He stiffened, tried to ease back, but _Clint’s_ arm was holding _Bucky_ in place.

The fingers stilled.

“Bucky, you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky croaked. “Let me up, gotta be heavy.”

“Nah. I mean you are, but it’s the good kind of heavy,” Clint assured him.

“Don’t kid me, doll,” Bucky snorted. “I know how much the arm weighs.”

“I’m fine. I can take it, promise,” Clint said. “And uh, maybe next time, I can _take it_ , if you know what I mean.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows and Bucky snorted, choking on laughter.

“You’re really somethin’ aren’t ya?” Bucky said softly.

“Something you might wanna keep?” Clint said, looking at him hopefully.

Bucky pushed up, and Clint let go this time. He was biting his lip as he stared at Bucky and there was wariness in his eyes, hiding under the hopefulness, hiding under the confidence. And Bucky suddenly realized there were even more depths to Clint than he had previously believed.

“Yeah, I reckon so,” Bucky said softly. Clint melted in relief. “Also, you been holding out on me, doll. Now that I know you can dance, we need to be doing much more of that.”

“Anytime,” Clint assured him. “You’re not too bad yourself. Been a long time since I had anyone but Nat to dance with.”

“Where’d you learn to do that? Most people these days don’t seem to just ‘dance’. I saw one of those clubs on our last mission – that _wasn’t_ dancing.”

“Sure it is, just not _our_ kind of dancing. But uh… think you might enjoy it more, if it was a private show,” Clint said teasingly, trailing a hand over Bucky’s arm. He shuddered at the warm touch over the cool metal plates, marveling – as he always did – that he was even able to feel anything there, and that it was as sensitive as it was.

“You might be right,” Bucky admitted. He had a feeling he wouldn’t mind the sort of dancing he’d seen if it was just him and Clint. “And your singing – god, doll, your voice is just… “ Bucky shuddered again, closing his eyes on a happy hum. “Thought I was gonna come in my pants.”

“Are you saying I could make you come on my voice?” Clint asked, eyes popping wide. “Holy fuck. I gotta try that now.”

Bucky laughed, feeling lighter than he had in _ages_. He stretched languidly, enjoying the raspy feel of their legs brushing together. He gasped as his panties shifted over his soft, sensitive cock.

“Also, _that_ was fuckin’ hot. We need to do more of that, too,” Clint said.

“That wasn’t strange?” Bucky asked, way more tentatively then he’d like.

“Fuck no, it was perfect,” Clint said.

Bucky relaxed back into Clint’s arms, the metal hand idly tracing patterns along Clint’s skin. “So, what are we, exactly? Are you my fella?” It was probably stupid to ask, when Clint had already asked if Bucky would keep him, so that would imply yes, right? But Bucky had to be sure.

“Do you want me to be?” Clint asked, his fingers tensing on Bucky’s skin so minutely Bucky thought he imagined it.

Bucky couldn’t breathe, couldn’t speak, so he nodded against Clint’s chest.

This was something he never thought he could have. Not before the war, when everything he liked was _wrong_. Not during the war, when life was so short, so temporary. Not after, when he was why HYDRA, them having tried to burn that part of him away.

And not afterwards, in the aftermath of him breaking free and figuring out just how messed up he was. How screwed up he would _always_ be.

He didn’t figure anyone would have him, wouldn’t want to deal with the dangerous mess he’d become. Didn’t think he deserved it either, when he remembered all the lives he had taken – not just under HYDRA but during the war, too.

Bucky didn’t realize he was crying till Clint wiped tears off his cheeks.

“I’m your fella, Bucky, for as long as you want me.”

Sniffling, Bucky moved, hiding his face in Clint’s neck. Everything pouring through him was so strong and overwhelming. His trepidation being replaced by relief, hope for the future, and something warm and fuzzy for Clint beyond the desire they’d just sated. It had been so long since he’d been _allowed_ to feel that sometimes he had a little trouble parsing things out.

But this… it felt _good._

When he thought of Clint leaving him, of pushing him away, his stomach sank, but when he imagined waking up in Clint’s bed, day after day, of cuddling on the couch and sharing meals and clothes, something bright washed over him.

“Good,” he managed to say gruffly against Clint’s skin. “Because I do. Want you.”

“Good,” Clint murmured. “Hey, I’m a little tired – “

Bucky pushed up, throat tightening. “You want me to leave?” This was probably too soon. All of it was too fast, too soon. He should have known.

“No!” Clint flew up off the bed, grasping Bucky’s arms. “No, please don’t. I just meant, I…” Clint let go of one arm and reached for his own ear, his fingers hovering. “I just meant, I’m gonna take my aids out, they’re not exactly comfortable to sleep in. I was just warning you, if I do that, I’m not gonna know what you’re saying until I get them back in.”

“Oh!” Bucky said. “No problem,” he signed slowly.

Clint gaped. “And you accused me of holding out – you know ASL?”

“Only a little. I’m still learning,” Bucky said sheepishly, blushing a little. He’d meant to have way more practice before letting Clint know.

“Why?” Clint asked, a bewildered look on his face.

“For you, of course. What do you _mean_ why?” Bucky asked, not liking the look on Clint’s face.

Clint shrugged. “Nobody else usually bothers, even after the find out. I think only Nat knows sign, and that’s more because it can be useful in the field.”

“I’m not everyone else,” Bucky said.

A wide smile bloomed over Clint’s face, taking Bucky’s breath way in an altogether different way from all the other times Clint had taken it away tonight.

Clint reached for Bucky, pulling him into a soft kiss before pulling him back to the bed, pausing to take his aids out and set them aside before curling up with Bucky once more.

God, Bucky was so fucking happy and he fell asleep, feeling safe in Clint’s arms. He dreamed of dancing, of cuddling, of singing and about a hundred other domestic things that he’d thought he’d lost forever and were made all the better with the idea that it was _Clint_ who brought them back to him.


End file.
